


Switched

by LarryHemlinson



Category: One Direction, Switched - Fandom
Genre: Louis bottoms, Louis is Wendy, Louis is transgender, M/M, Switched! 1D version, amanda hocking - Freeform, first story!, harry tops, i'll add more later, super powered one direction, switched
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarryHemlinson/pseuds/LarryHemlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson was just a normal teenage boy... Until Harry styles came into his life. (The whole summary is inside!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eleven years ago

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever book/fanfiction! Yay. I hope you guys enjoy, see more notes at the bottom! 
> 
> P.s. I wrote all of this out, I did not copy and paste. I wrote it all out on wattpad and here. I will hopefully update every day/ every other day. Please read Switched by Amanda hocking after/ before this! It's amazing. This is just the One Direction version :)

When Louis Tomlinson was six years old, his mother was convinced he was a monster and tried to kill him. Eleven years later, Louis discovers his mother might have been right. He's not the person he's always believed himself to be, and his whole life begins to unravel- all because of Harry Styles. 

Harry is a mysterious guy who always seems to be watching him. Every encounter leaves him deeply shaken... Though it has more to do with Louis' fierce attraction towards him than he'd ever admit. But it isn't long before Harry reveals the truth: Louis is a changeling who was switched at birth- and he's come to take him home. 

Now Louis' about to journey to a magical world he never knew existed, one that's both beautiful and frightening. And where he must leave his old life behind to discover who he's meant to become....


	2. Eleven years ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louis is transgender in this! So if you see anything like girl clothes/him being called 'daughter' or something like that, it's supposed to be that way :)

Louis POV 

A couple things made that day stand out more than any other; it was my sixth birthday, and my mother was wielding a knife. Not a tiny steak knife, but some kind of massive butcher knife glinting in the light like in a bad horror movie. She definitely wanted to kill me.

I try to think of the days that led up to that one to see if I missed something about her, but I have no memory of her before then. I have some memories of my childhood, and I can even remember my dad, who died when I was five, but not her. 

When I ask my brother, Matt, about her, he always answers with things like, "She's batshit, Louis. That's all you need to know." He's seven years older than I am, so he remembers things better, but he never wants to talk about it. 

We lived in Hamptons when I was a kid, and my mother was a lady of leisure. Shed hired a live-in nanny to deal with me, but the night before my birthday the nanny had left for a family emergency. My mother was in charge of me, for the first time in her life, and neither of us was happy. 

I didn't even want the party. I liked gifts, but I didn't have any friends. The people coming to the party were my mothers friends and their snobby little kids. She had planned some kind of tea party I didn't want, but Matt and our maid spent all morning setting it up anyway. 

By the time the quests arrived, I'd already ripped off my shoes and plucked the bows from my hair. My mother came down in the middle of opening gifts, surveying the scene with her icy blue eyes. 

Her blond hair had been smoothed back, and she had on bright red lipstick that only made her appear paler. She still wore my fathers red silk robe, the same way she had since the day he died, but she'd added a necklace and black heels, as if that would make the outfit appropriate. 

No one commented on it, everyone was too busy watching my performance. I complained about every single gift I got. They were all dolls or ponies or some other thing I would never play with. 

My mother came into the room, stealthily gliding through the quests to where I sat. I had torn through a box wrapped in pink teddy bears, containing another porcelain doll. Instead of showing my gratitude, I started yelling about what a stupid present it was. 

Before I could finish, she slapped me sharply across the face. 

"You are not my daughter." My mother said, her voice cold. My cheek stung from where she had hit me, and I gaped at her. 

The maid quickly redirected the festivities, but the idea percolated in my mothers mind the rest of the afternoon. I think, when she said it, she meant it the way parents do when their child behaves appallingly. But the more he thought, the more it made sense to him. 

After an afternoon of similar tantrums on my part someone decides it was time to have cake. My mother seemed to be taking forever in the kitchen, and I went to check on her. I don't even know why she was the one getting the cake instead of the maid, who was far more maternal. 

On the island in the kitchen, a massive chocolate cake covered in pink flowers sat in the middle. My mother stood on the other side, holding a gigantic knife she was using to cut the cake to serve on tiny saucers. Her hair was coming loose from it's bobby pins. 

"Chocolate?" I wrinkled my nose as she tried to set perfect pieces onto the saucers. 

"Yes, Louis, you like chocolate," my mother informed me. 

"No, I don't!" I crossed my arms over my chest. "I hate chocolate! I'm not going to eat it, and you can't make me!" 

"Louis!" 

The knife happened to point in my direction, some frosting stuck to the tip, but I wasn't afraid. If I had been, everything might've turned out different. Instead, I wanted to have another one of my tantrums. 

"No, no, no! It's my birthday, and I don't want chocolate!" I shouted and stomped my foot on the floor as hard as I could. 

"You don't want chocolate?" My mother looked at me, her blue eyes wide and incredulous. 

A whole new type of crazy glinted in them, and that's when my fear started to kick in. 

"What kind of child are you, Louis?" She slowly walked around the island, coming toward me. The knife in her hand looked far more menacing than it had a few seconds ago. 

"You're certainly not my child. What are you, Louis?" 

Staring at her, I took several steps back. My mother looked maniacal. Her robe had fallen open, revealing her thin collarbones and the black slip she wore underneath. She took a step forward, this time with the knife pointed right at me. I should've screamed or run away, but I felt frozen in place. 

"I was pregnant, Louis! But you're not the child I have birth to! Where is my child?" Tears formed in her eyes, and I just shook my head. "You probably killed him, didn't you?"

She lunged at me, screaming at me to tell her what I had done with her real baby. I darted out of the way just in time, but she backed me into a corner. I pressed up against the kitchen cupboards with nowhere to go, but she wasn't about to give up. 

"Mom!" Matt yelled from the other side of the room. 

Her eyes flickered with recognition, the sound of the son she actually loved. For a moment I though this might stop her, but it only made her realize she was running out of time, so she raised the knife. 

Matt dove at her, but not before the blade tore through my dress and slashed across my stomach. Blood stained my clothes as pain shot through me, and I sobbed hysterically. 

My mother fought hard against Matt, unwilling to let go of the knife. 

"He killed your brother, Matthew! My mother insisted, looking at him with frantic eyes. "He's a monster! He has to be stopped!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? It was a bit of a weird ending but that's how the book is. Comment and leave kudos please!


	3. Chapter 3

Drool spilled out across my desk, and I opened my eyes just in time to hear Mr. Meade slam down a textbook. I'd only been at this high school a month, but I'd quickly learned that was his favorite way of waking me up from my naps during his history lecture. I always tried to stay awake, but his monotone voice killed me into sleeping submission every time. 

"Mister Tomlinson?" Mr. Meade snapped. "Mister Tomlinson?" 

"Hmm?" I murmured. 

I lifted my head and discreetly wiped away the drool. I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Most of the class seemed oblivious, except for Harry Styles. He'd been here a week, so he was the only kid in school newer than me. Whenever I looked at him, he always seemed to be staring at me in a completely unabashed way, as if it were perfectly normal to gawk at me. 

There was something oddly still and quiet about him, and I had yet to hear him speak, even though he was in four of my classes. His hair touched his shoulders in waves, and his eyes were a emerald green. He looks rather striking, but he weirded me out too much for me to find him attractive. 

"Sorry to disturb your sleep." Mr Meade cleared his throat so I would look up at him. 

"It's okay." I said. 

"Mister Tomlinson, why don't you go down to the principals office?" Mr.Meade suggested, and I groaned. "Since you seem to be making a habit of sleeping in my class, maybe he can come up with some ideas to help you stay awake." 

"I am awake." I insisted. 

"Mister Tomlinson- now." Mr. Meade pointed to the door, as if I had forgotten how to leave and needed reminding.

I fixed my gaze on him, and despite how stern his gray eyes looked, I could tell he'd cave easily. Over and over in my head I kept repeating, I do not need to go to the principals office. You don't want to send me down there. Let me stay in class. Within seconds his face went lax and his eyes took on a glassy quality. 

"You can stay in class and finish the lecture," Mr.Meade said groggily. He shook his head, clearing his eyes. "But next time you're going straight to the office, Mister Tomlinson." He looked confused for a moment, and then launched right back into his history lecture. 

I wasn't sure what It was I had just done exactly- I tried not to think about it enough to name it. About a year ago, I'd discovered that if I thought about something and looked at somebody hard enough, I could get that person to do what I wanted. 

As awesome as that sounded, I avoided doing it as much as possible. Partially because I felt like I was crazy for really believing I could do it, even though it worked every time. But mostly because I didn't like it. It made me feel dirty and manipulative. 

Mr.Meade went on talking, and I followed along studiously, my guilt making me try harder. I hadn't wanted to do that to him, but I couldn't go to the principals office. I had just been expelled from my last school, forcing my brother and aunt to uproot their lives again so we could move closer to my new school. 

I had honestly tried at the last school, but the Deans son had been intent on making my life miserable. I'd tolerated his taunts and ridicules as best I could until one day he corned me in the bathroom, calling me every dirty name in the book. Finally, I'd had enough, and I punched him. 

The Dean decided to skip their one-strike rule and immediately expelled me. I know in a large part it was because I'd resorted to physical violence against his child, but I'm not sure that was it entirely. Where other students were shown leniency, for some reason I never seemed to be. 

When class finally ended, I shoved my books in my book bag and left quickly. I didn't like hanging around after I did the mind-control trick. Mr.Meade could change his mind and send me to the office, so I hurried down to my locker. 

Bright-colored flyers decorated battered lockers, telling everyone to join the debate team, try out for the school play, and not to miss the fall semiformal this Friday. I wondered what a "semiformal" consisted at a public school, not that I'd bothered to ask anyone. 

I got to my locker and started switching out my books. Without even looking, I knew Harry was behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him getting a drink from the fountain. Almost as soon as I looked at him, he lifted his head and gazed at me. Like he could sense me too. 

The guy was just looking at me, nothing more, but it freaked me out somehow. I'd put up with his stares for a week, trying to avoid confrontation, but I couldn't take it anymore. He was the one acting inappropriately, not me. I couldn't get in trouble for just talking to him, right?

"Hey," I said to him, slamming my locker shut. I readjusted the straps on my book bag and walked across the hall to where he stood. "Why are you staring at me?" 

"Because you're standing in front of me." Harry replied simply. He looked at me, his eyes framed by dark lashes, without any hint of embarrassment or even denial. It was definitely unnerving. 

"You're always staring at me," I persisted. "it's weird. You're weird." 

"I wasn't trying to fit in." 

"Why do you look at me all the time?" I knew I'd simply rephrased my original question, but he still hadn't given me a decent answer. 

"Does it bother you?" 

"Answer the question." I stood up straighter, trying to make my presence more imposing so he wouldn't realize how much he rattled me. 

"Everyone always looks at you," Harry says coolly. "You're very attractive." 

That sounded like a compliment, but his voice was emotionless when he said it. I couldn't tell if he was making fun of a vanity I didn't even have, or if he was simply stating facts. Was he flattering me or mocking me? Or maybe something else entirely? 

"Nobody stares at me as much as you do," I said as evenly as I could.

"If it bothers you, I'll try and stop." Harry offered. 

That was tricky. In order to ask him to stop, I had to admit that he'd gotten to me, and I didn't want to admit that anything got to me. If I lied and said it was fine, then he would just keep doing it. 

"I didn't ask you to stop. I asked you why," I amended. 

"I told you why." 

"No, you didn't." I shook my head. "You just said that everyone looks at me. You never explained why you looked at me." 

Almost imperceptibly the corner of his mouth moved up, revealing the hint of a smirk. It wasn't just that I amused him; I sensed he was pleased with me. Like he has challenged me somehow and I had passed. 

My stomach did a stupid flip thing I had never felt before and I swallowed hard, hoping to fight it back. 

"I look at you because I can't look away." Harry answered finally. 

I was struck completely mute, trying to think of some kind of clever response, but my mind refused to work. Realizing that my jaw had gone slack and I probably looked like an awe-struck schoolgirl, I hurried to collect myself. 

"That's kind of creepy," I said at last, but my words came out weak instead of accusatory.

"I'll work on being less creepy, then," Harry promised. 

I had called him out on being creepy, and it didn't faze him at all. He didn't stammer an apology or flush with shame. He just kept looking at me evenly. Most likely he was a damn sociopath, and for whatever reason, I found that endearing. 

I couldn't come up with a witty retort, but the bell rang, saving me from the rest of that awkward conversation. Harry just nodded, thus ending our exchange, and turned down the hall to go to his next class. Thankfully, it was one of the few he didn't have with me.

True to his word, Harry wasn't creepy the rest of the day. Every time I saw him, he was doing something inoffensive that didn't involve looking at me. I still got that feeling that he watched me when I had my back to him, but it wasn't anything I could prove. 

When the final bell rang at 3 o'clock, I tried to be the first one out. My older brother, Matt, picked me up from school, at least until he found a job, and I didn't want to keep him waiting. Besides that, I didn't want to deal with any more contact with Harry Styles.

I quickly made my way to the parking lot at the edge of the school lawn. Scanning for Matts Prius, I absently started to chew my thumbnail. I had this weird feeling, almost like a shiver running down my back. I turned around, half expecting to see Harry staring at me, but there was nothing. 

I tried to shake it off, but my heart raced faster. This felt like something more sinister than a boy from school. I was still staring off, trying to decide what had me freaked out, when a loud honk startled me, making me jump. Matt sat a few cars down, looking at me over the top of his sunglasses. 

"Sorry." I opened the car door and hoped in, where he looked me over for a moment. "What?" 

"You looked nervous. Did something happen?" Matt asked, and I sighed. He took this whole big brother thing way too seriously. 

"No, nothing happened. School sucks." I said, brushing him off. "Let's go home." 

"Seat belt," Matt commanded, and I did as I was told. 

Matt had always been quiet and reserved, thinking everything over carefully before making a decision. He was a stark contrast to me in every way, except that we were both relatively short. I was small, with a decidedly pretty, feminine face. My brown hair was an untamed mess, light and feathery. 

He kept his sandy blond hair trim and neat, and his eyes were the same shade of blue as our mother's. Matt wasn't overly muscular, but he was sturdy and athletic from working out a lot. He had a sense of duty, like he had to make sure he was strong enough to defend us against anything. 

"How is school going?" Matt asked. 

"Great. Fantastic. Amazing." 

"Are you even going to graduate this year?" Matt had long since stopped judging my school record. A large part of him didn't even care if I graduated from high school. 

"Who knows?" I shrugged. 

Everywhere I went, kids never seemed to like me. Even before I said or did anything. I felt like I had something wrong with me and everyone knew it. I tried getting along with the other kids, but I'd only take getting pushed for so long before I pushed back. Principals and deans were quick to expel me, probably sensing the same things the kids did. 

I just didn't belong. 

"Just to warn you, Maggie's taking it seriously," Matt said. "She's set on you graduating this year, from this school." 

"Delightful." I sighed. Matt couldn't care less about my schooling, but my aunt Maggie was a different story. And since she was my legal guardian, her opinion mattered more. "What's her plan?" 

"Maggie's thinking bedtimes," Matt informed me with a smirk. As if sending me to bed early would somehow prevent me from getting in a fight. 

"I'm almost eighteen!" I groaned "what is she thinking?" 

"You've got four more months until you're eighteen," Matt corrected me sharply, and his hand tightened on the steering wheel. He suffered from serious delusions that I was going to run away as soon as I turned eighteen, and nothing I could say would convince him otherwise. 

"Yeah, whatever." I waved it off. "Did you tell her she's insane?" 

"I figured she'd hear it enough from you," Matt grinned at me.

"So did you find a job?" I asked tentatively, and he shook his head. 

He'd just finished an internship over the summer, working with a great architecture firm. He'd said it didn't bother him, moving to a a town without much call for a promising young architect, but I couldn't help feeling guilty about it. 

"This is a pretty town." I said, looking out the window. 

We approached our new house, buried on an average suburban street among a slew of Naples and elms. It actually seemed like a boring small town, but I'd promised I'd make the best of it. I really wanted to. I didn't think I could handle disappointing Matt anymore. 

"So you're really gonna try here?" Matt asked, looking over at me. We had pulled up in our driveway next to the buttercolored Victorian that Maggie had bought last month. 

"I already am," I insisted with a smile. "I've been talking to this Harry kid." Sure, I'd talked to him only once, and I wouldn't even remotely count him as a friend, but I had to tell Matt something. 

"Look at you. Making your very first friend." Mart shut off the cars engine and looked at me with veiled amusement. 

"Yeah, well, how many friends do you have?" I countered. He just shook his head and got out of the car, and I quickly followed him. "That's what I thought." 

"I've had friends before. Gone to parties. Kisses a girl. The whole mine yards," Matt said as he went through the side door into the house. 

"So you say." I kicked off my shoes as soon as we walked into the kitchen, which was still in various stages of unpacking. As many times as we'd moved, everyone had gotten tired of the whole process, so we tended to live out of boxes. "I've only seen one of these alleged girls." 

"Yeah, 'cause when I brought her home, you set her dress on fire! While she was wearing it!" Matt pulled off his sunglasses and looked at me severely. 

"Oh, come on. That was an accident and you know it." 

"So you say." Matt opened the fridge. 

"Anything good in there?" I asked and hopped onto the kitchen island. "I'm famished." 

"Probably nothing you'd like." Matt started sifting through the contents of the fridge, but he was right. 

I was a notoriously picky eater. While I had never purposely sought out the life of a vegan, I seemed to hate most things that had either meat in them or man-made synthetics. It was odd and incredibly irritating for the people who tried to feed me. 

Maggie appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, flecks of pain stuck in her blond curls. Layers of multicolored paint covered her ratty overalls, proof of all the rooms she had redecorated over the years. She had her hands on her hip, so Matt shut the fridge door to give her his full attention. 

"I thought I told you to tell me when you got home," Maggie said. 

"We're home?" Matt offered. 

"I can see that."Maggie rolled her eyes, and then turned her attention to me. "How was school?"

"Good," I said. "I'm trying harder." 

"We've heard that before." Maggie gave me a weary look. 

I hated it when she gave me that look. I hated knowing that I made her feel that way, that I had disappointed her that much. She did so much for me, and the only thing she asked of me was that I at least try at school. I had to make it work this time. 

"Well, yeah... But..." I looked at Matt for help. " I mean, I actually promised Matt this time. And I'm making a friend." 

"He's talking to some guy named Harry," Matt said corroborating my story. 

"Like a guy guy?" Maggie smiled too broadly for my liking. 

The idea of Harry being a romantic prospect hadn't crossed Matts mind before, and he suddenly tenses up, looking at me with a new scrutiny. Fortunately for him, that idea hadn't crossed my kind either. 

"No, nothing like that." I shook my head. "He's just a guy, I guess. I don't know. He seems nice enough." 

"Nice?" Maggie gushed. "That's a start! And much better than that anarchist with the tattoo on his face." 

"We weren't friends." I corrected her. "I just stole his motorcycle. While he happened to be on it." 

Nobody had really believed that story, but its true, and it was how I figured out that I could get people to do things just by thinking it. I had been thinking that I really wanted his bike, and then I was looking at him and he was listening to me, even though I hadn't said anything. Then I was driving his motorcycle. 

"So this really is going to be a new start for us?" Maggie couldn't hold back her excitement any longer. Her blue eyes started to well with happy tears. "Wendy, this is just so wonderful! We can really make a home here!" 

I wasn't nearly as excited about it as she was, though I couldn't help but hope she was right. It would be nice to feel like I was home somewhere.


	4. Chapter 4

Our new house also supplied us with a large vegetable garden, which thrilled Maggie endlessly. Matt and I were much less thrilled. While I loved the outdoors, I'd never been a big fan of manual labor. 

Autumn was settling in, and Maggie insisted that we had to clear the garden of it's dying vegetation to prepare it for planting in the spring. She used words like "rototiller" and "mulch" and I hoped Matt would deal with them. When it came to work, I usually just handed Matt the necessary tools and kept his company. 

"So when are you hauling out the rototiller?" I asked, watching as Matt tore up dead vines. I'm not sure what they used to be, but they reminded me of grapevines. While Matt pulled things up, my job was to hold the wheelbarrow so he could throw them in. 

"We don't have a rototiller." He gave me a look as he tossed the dead plants into the wheelbarrow. "You know, you could be helping me with this. You don't need to physically hold that at all times." 

"I take my job very seriously, so I think it'd be better if I did," I said, and he rolled his eyes. 

Matt continued grumbling, but I tuned him out. A warm fall breeze blew over us, and I close my eyes, breathing it. It smelled wonderfully sweet, like fresh cut corn and grass and wet leaves. A nearby wind chime tinkled lightly, and it made me dread winter coming and taking this all away. 

I'd been lost in the moment, enjoying the perfection, but something snapped me out of it. It was hard to describe exactly what it was, but the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The air suddenly felt chillier, and I knew somebody was watching us. 

I looked around, trying to see who it was, and this weird fear ran over me. We had a privacy fence at the back of the yard, and a thick row of hedges blocking our house on either side. I scanned them, searching for any signs of crouching figures or spying eyes. I didn't see anything, but the feeling didn't go away. 

"If you're gonna be out here, you should at least wear shoes," Matt said, pulling me from my thoughts. He stood up, stretching his back, and looked at me. "Louis?"

"I'm fine," I answered absently. 

I thought I saw movement around the side of the house, so I went over there. Matt called my name, but I ignored him. When I rounded the house, I stopped short. Harry Styles stood on the sidewalk, but oddly enough, he wasn't looking at me. He was staring at something down the street, something out of my sight. 

As strange as it sounds, as soon as I saw him, the anxiety I'd felt started to subside. My first thought should've been that it was him causing my uneasiness, since he was the one who always stared at me in such a creepy fashion. But it wasn't. 

Whatever I'd felt in the backyard, it wasn't because of him. When he stared, he made me self-conscious. But this... this made my skin crawl. 

After a second, Harry turned to look back at me. His emerald eyes rested on me a moment, his face expressionless as always. Then, without saying a word, he turned and walked off in the direction he'd been staring. 

"Louis, what's going on?" Matt asked, coming up behind me. 

"I thought I saw something." I shook my head. 

"Yeah?" He looked at me hard, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine." I forced a smile and turned to the backyard. "Come on. We've got a lot of work to do if I'm gonna make it to that dance. 

"You're still on that kick?" Matt grimaced. 

Telling Maggie about the dance may have been the worst idea I've ever had, and my life is made up almost entirely of bad ideas. I hadn't wanted to go, but as soon as she'd heard about it, she decided it would be the most fantastic thing ever. I'd never gone to a dance before, but she was so excited about it, I let her have this small victory. 

With the dance at seven, she figured she had enough time to finish the coat of paint in the bathroom. Matt had started to voice his complaints, mostly about my interacting with the same-sex, but Maggie shut him down. To keep him from getting in her way, she ordered him to finish the yard work. He complied only because he knew that there was no stopping Maggie this time. 

Despite Matts attempts to slow us down, we finished the garden pretty quickly, and I went inside to get ready. Maggie sat on the bed and watched me as I rummaged through my closet, offering an endless stream of questions about Harry. Matt would grunt or scoff every now and then at my answers, so I knew he was listening nearby. 

Once I had decided on a simple blue dress that Maggie insisted looked amazing on me, I let her do my hair. My hair refused to cooperate with anything I tried to do to it, and while it wasn't exactly obedient for Maggie, she outwitted it. She made my hair into a fairly high quiff, while the rest was still light and fluffy, giving it a look of a cloud. 

When Matt saw me, he looked really pissed off and a little awed, so I knew that I must look pretty awesome. 

Maggie gave me a ride to the dance, because we both weren't convinced Matt would let me out of the car. He kept insisting on a nine o'clock curfew, even though the dance went till ten. I thought I'd be back well before that, but Maggie told me to take all the time I wanted. 

My only experience with dances was what I had seen on TV, but reality wasn't that far off. The theme appeared to be "Crepe Paper in the Gymnasium," and they had mastered it perfectly. 

The school colors were white and navy blue, so white and navy blue streamers covered everything, along with matching balloons. For romantic lighting, they had strung everything with white Christmas lights. 

Refreshments covered a table on the side, and the band playing on the makeshift stage under the basketball hoop wasn't that bad. Their set list appear to include only songs from the films of John Hughes, and I arrived in the middle of a "weird science" cover. 

The biggest difference between real life and what films had taught me was that nobody actually danced. A group of girls stood directly in front of the stage swooning over the lead singer, but otherwise the floor was mostly empty.

People sat scattered all over the bleachers, and, attempting to fit in, I sat in the first row. I kicked off my shoes immediately, because for the most part I hate shoes. With nothing else to do, I resorted to people-watching. As the night wore on, I found myself feeling increasingly lonely and bored. 

Kids actually started dancing as the gymnasium filled up, and the band moved on to some kind of Tears for Fears medley. I decided that I'd been here long enough, and I was planning my escape when Harry pushed through the doors. 

Wearing a slim-fitting black dress shirt and dark jeans, he looked good. He had the sleeves rolled up and an extra button undone on his shirt, and I wondered why I never realized how attractive he was before. 

His eyes met mine, and he walked over to me, surprising me with his direct approach. As often as he seemed to be watching me, he'd never imitated contact before. Not even today, when he'd walked past my house. 

"I didn't peg you for the dancing kind," Harry commented when he reached me.

"I was thinking the same thing about you," I said, and he shrugged. 

Harry sat down on the bleachers next to me, and I sat up a bit straighter. He glanced over at me but didn't say anything. Already he looked annoyed, and he'd just gotten here. An awkward silence settled over us, and I hurried to fill it. 

"You arrived awfully late. Couldn't decide what to wear?" I teased. 

"I had stuff with work," Harry explained vaguely. 

"Oh? Do you work somewhere near my house?" 

"Something like that," Harry sighed, clearly eager to change the subject. "Have you been dancing?" 

"Nope," I said. "Dancing is for suckers." 

"Is that why you came to a dance?" Harry looked down at my bare feet. "you didn't wear the right shoes for dancing. You didn't even wear the right shoes for walking." 

"I don't like shoes." I told him defensively. My hem landed above my knees, but I tried to pull it down, as if I could get it to cover my bare-feet embarrassment. 

Harry gave me a look I couldn't read at all, then went back to staring at the people dancing in front of us. By now the floor was almost entirely covered. Kids still dotted the bleachers, but they were mostly the headgear kids and the ones with dandruff. 

"So this is what you're doing? Watching other people dance?" Harry asked. 

"I guess." I shrugged. 

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and I moved so I was sitting up straighter. My dress was strapless, and I rubbed my bare arms, feeling naked and uncomfortable. 

"You cold?" Harry glanced over at me, and I shook my head. "I think it's cold in here." 

"It's a little chilly," I admitted. " But nothing I can't handle." 

Harry would barely look at me, which was a complete 180 from his constant creepy staring. Somehow, I found this worse. I don't know why he had even come to the dance if he hated it so much, and I was about to ask him that when he turned to look at me. 

"You wanna dance?" He asked flatly. 

"Are you asking me to dance with you?" 

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. 

"Yeah?" I shrugged sarcastically. "You really know how to sweet talk a boy." 

His mouth crept up in a hint of a smile, and that officially won me over. I hated myself for it. 

"Fair enough." Harry stood up and extended his hand to me "would you, Louis Tomlinson, care to dance with me?" 

"Sure." I placed my hand in his, trying to ignore how warm his skin felt and the rapid beating of my own heart, and got to my feet. 

Naturally, the band had just started playing "if you leave" by OMD, making me feel like I had walked into a perfect movie moment. Harry led me to the dance floor and placed his hand on the small of my back. I put one hand on his shoulder while he took my other hand in his. 

I was so close to him I could feel his delicious heat radiating from his body. His eyes were the greenest green I had ever seen, and they were looking at only me. For one unspoiled minute, everything in life felt perfect in a way that it never had before. Like there should be a spotlight on us, the only two people in the world. 

Then something changed in Harry's expression, something I couldn't read, but it definitely got darker. 

"You're not a very good dancer," Harry commented in that emotionless way of his. 

"Thanks?" I said unsurely. We were mostly just swaying in a small circle, and I wasn't sure how I could screw up, plus we seemed to be dancing the exact same way as everyone else. Maybe he was joking, so I tried to sound playful when I said, "you're not that great yourself." 

"I'm a wonderful dancer," Harry replied matter-of-factly. "I just need a better partner." 

"Okay." I stopped looking up at him and stared straight ahead over his shoulder. "I don't know what to say to that." 

"Why do you need to say anything to that? It's not necessary for you to speak incessantly. Although I'm not sure you've realized that yet." Harry's tone had gotten icy, but I still danced with him because I couldn't come up with enough sense to walk away. 

"I've barely said anything. I've just been dancing with you." I swallowed hard and didn't appreciate how crushed I felt. "And you asked me to dance! It's not like you're doing me a favor." 

"Oh, come on." Harry said with an exaggerated eye roll. "The desperation was coming off you in waves. You were all but begging to dance with me. I am doing you a favor." 

"Wow." I stepped back from him, feeling confused tears threatening and this awful pain growing inside of me. "I don't know what I did to you!" His expression softened, but it was too late. 

"Louis-" 

"No!" I cut him off. Everyone nearby had stopped dancing to stare at us, some disgusted looks directed to me, since I was gay and in a dress, and others sympathetic, but I didn't care. "You are a total dick!" 

"Louis!"Harry repeated, but I turned and hurried through the crowd. 

There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to get out of here. Patrick, a kid from biology class, stood by the punch bowl, and I rushed over to him. We weren't friends, but he's been one of the few kids here who had been nice to me. When he saw me, he looked confused and concerned, but at least I had his attention. 

"I want to leave. Now," I hissed at Patrick. 

"What-" Before Patrick could ask what had happened, Harry appeared at my side. 

"Look, Louis, I'm sorry," Harry apologized sincerely, which only pissed me off more. 

"I don't wanna hear anything from you!" I snapped and refused to look at him. Patrick looked back and forth between the two of us, trying to decipher what was going on. 

"Louis," Harry floundered. "I didn't mean-" 

"I said I don't want to hear it!" I glared at him, but only for a second. 

"Maybe you should let the guy apologize," Patrick suggested gently. 

"No, I shouldn't." Then, like a small child, I stomped my foot. "I want to go!" 

Harry stood just to the side of us, watching me intently. I clenched my fists and looked at Patrick directly in his eyes. I didn't like doing this when people watched, but I had to get out of here. I kept chanting what I wanted over and over in my head. I want to go home, just take me home, please, please, just take me home. I can't be here anymore. 

Patricks face started to change, his expression growing relaxed and faraway. Blinking, he stared blankly at me for a minute. 

"I think I should just take you home," Patrick said groggily. 

"What did you just do?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes. 

My heart stopped beating, and for one terrifying second I was certain he knew what I'd done. But then I realized that'd be impossible, so I shook it off. 

"I didn't do anything!" I snapped and looked back at Patrick. "Let's get out of here." 

"Louis!" Harry said, giving me a hard look. "Do you even know what you just did?" 

"I didn't do anything!" I grabbed Patricks wrist, dragging him toward the exit, and, much to my relief, Harry didn't follow. 

In the car, Patrick tried to ask me what had happened with Harry, but I wouldn't talk about it. He drove around for a while, so I was reasonably calm by the time he dropped me off, and I couldn't thank him enough for it. 

Matt and Maggie were waiting by the door for me, but I barely said a word to them. That freaked out Matt, who started threatening to kill every boy at the dance, but I managed to reassure him that I was fine and nothing bad had happened. Finally, he let me go up to my room, where I proceeded to throw myself onto the bed and not cry. 

The night swirled in my head like some bizarre dream. I couldn't get a read on the way I felt about Harry. Most of the time he seemed weird and bordering creepy. But then we had that glorious moment when we danced together, before he completely shattered it. 

Even now, after the way he'd treated me, I couldn't shake how wonderful it had felt being in his arms like that. In general, I never liked being touched or being close to people, but I loved the way I had felt with him. 

His hand strong and warm on the small of my back and the soft heat that flowed from him. When he had looked at me then, so sincerely, I had thought... 

I don't know what I had thought, but it turned out to be a lie. 

Strangest of all, he seemed to be able to tell that I had done something to Patrick. I didn't know how anyone could know. I wasn't even sure that I was doing it. But a normal, sane person wouldn't even suspect that I could do that. 

I could suddenly explain all Harry's odd behavior: he was completely insane. 

What it came down to was that I knew nothing about him. I could barely tell when he was mocking me and when he was being sincere. Sometimes I thought he was into me, and other times he obviously hated me. 

There wasn't anything I knew about him for sure. Except that despite everything, I was starting to like him. 

Sometime in the night, after I had changed into sweats and a tank top, and after I had spent a very long time tossing and turning, I must've fallen asleep. When I woke up, it was still dark out, and I had drying tears on my cheeks. I had been crying in my sleep, which seemed unfair, since I never let myself cry when I was awake. 

I rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock. It's angry numbers declared it was a little after three in the morning, and I wasn't sure why I was awake. I flicked on my bedside lamp, casting everything in a warm glow, and I saw something that scared me so badly, my heart stopped.


	5. Stalker

A figure was crouched outside my window, my second story window. Admittedly, a small roof was right outside of it, but a person was standing on it was about the last thing I expected to see. On top of that, it wasn't just anybody. 

Harry Styles looked hopeful, but not at all ashamed or frightened at having been caught peeping into my room. He knocked gently at the glass, and belatedly I realized that's what had woken me up. 

He hadn't been peeping intentionally; he'd been trying to get my attention so I could let him into my room. So that was slightly less creepy, I supposed. 

For some reason, I got up and went over to the window. I caught sight of myself in my mirror, and I did not look good. My pajamas were of the sad, comfy variety. My hair was in every direction, and my eyes were red and puffy. 

I knew I shouldn't let Harry in my room. He was probably a sociopath and he didn't make me feel good about myself. Besides, Matt would kill us both if he caught him in here. 

So I stood in front of the window, my arms crossed, and glared at him. I was pissed off and hurt, and I wanted him to know it. Normally I prided myself on not getting hurt, let alone telling people they had hurt me. But this time I thought it would be better if he knew he was a dick. 

"I'm sorry!" Harry said loud enough so his voice would carry through the glass, and his eyes echoed the sentiment. He looked genuinely remorseful, but I wasn't ready to accept his apology yet. Maybe I never would. 

"What do you want?" I demanded as loudly as I could without Matt hearing me. 

"To apologize. And to talk to you." Harry looked earnestly at me. "It's important." 

I chewed on my lip, torn between what I knew I should do and what I really wanted to do. 

"Please." he said. 

Against my better judgement, I opened the window. I left the screen in place and took a step back so I was sitting on the end of my bed. Harry pulled the screen out easily, and I wondered how much experience he had sneaking in boys windows. 

Carefully, he climes into my room, shutting the window behind him. He glanced over my room, making me feel self-conscious. It was rather messy, with clothes and books strewn about, but most of my stuff sat in two large card board boxes and a trunk on one side of my room. 

"So what do you want?" I said, trying to drag his attention back to me and away from my things. 

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated, with that same sincerity he had demonstrated outside. "Tonight I was cruel." He looked away thoughtfully before continuing. "I don't want to hurt you." 

"So why did you?" I asked sharply. 

Licking his lips, he shifted his feet and exhaled deeply. He had intentionally been mean to me. It wasn't some accident because he was cocky or unaware of how he treated people. Everything he did was meticulous and purposeful. 

"I don't want to lie to you, and I promise you that I haven't." Harry answered carefully. "And I'll leave it at that." 

"I think I have a right to know what's going on," I snapped and then remembered that Matt and Maggie were sleeping down the hall and hastily lowered my voice. "And what you're doing at my window in the middle of the night." 

"I came here to tell you," Harry answered me. "To explain everything. This isn't the way we normally do things, so I had to make a phone call before I came to see you. I was trying to figure things out. That's why it's so late. I'm sorry." 

"Call who? Figure out what?" I took a step back. 

"It's about what you did tonight, with Patrick," Harry said gently, and the pit in my stomach grew. 

"I didn't do anything with Patrick." I shook my head. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"You really don't?" Harry eyes me suspiciously, unable to decide if he believed me or not. 

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered. A chill ran over me and I started feeling vaguely nauseous. 

"Yeah, you do." Harry nodded solemnly. "You just don't know what it is." 

"I'm just very... convincing." I said without any real confidence. I didn't want to keep denying it, but talking about it, giving credibility to my own private insanity, scared me even more. 

"Yeah, you are." Harry admitted. "But you can't do that again. Not like you did tonight." 

"I didn't do anything! And even if I did, who are you to try and stop me?" Something else flashed in my mind, and I looked at him. "Can you even stop me?" 

"You can't use it on me now." Harry shook his head absently. "It's really not that major, especially the way you're using it." 

"What is it?" I asked quietly, finding it hard to make my mouth work. I let go of any pretense I had that I didn't know what was going on, and my shoulders sagged. 

"It's called persuasion," Harry said emphatically, as if that were somehow much different from what I had been saying. "Technically, it would be called psychokinesis. It's a form of mind control." 

I found it disturbing how matter-of-factly he talked about all of this, as if we were talking about biology homework instead of possibility that I possessed some kind of paranormal ability. 

"How do you know?" I asked. "How do you know what I have? How did you even know I was doing it?" 

He shrugged. "Experience." 

"What does that mean?" 

"It's complicated." He rubbed the back of his head and stared at the floor. "You're not going to believe me. But I haven't lied to you, and I never will. do you believe that, at least?" 

"I think so." I replied tentatively. Considering we'd only spoken a handful of times, he hadn't had much of an opportunity to lie to me. 

"That's a start." Harry took a deep breath, and I nervously pulled at a strand of my hair as I watched him. Almost sheepishly, he said. "You're a changeling." He looked expectantly at me, waiting for some kind of dramatic reaction. 

"I don't even know what that is. Isn't it like a movie with Angelina Jolie or something?" I shook my head. "I don't know what it means." 

"You don't know what it is?" Harry smirked. "Of course you don't know what it is. That would make it all too easy if you had even the slightest inkling about what was going on." 

"It would, wouldn't it?" I agreed. 

"A changeling is a child that has been secretly exchanged for another." 

The room got this weird, foggy quality to it. My mind flashed to my mother, and the things she had screamed at me. I had always felt I didn't belong, but at the same time I'd never consciously believed it was true. 

But now, suddenly, Harry confirmed all the suspicions I had been harboring. All the horrible things my mother had told me were true.

"But how..." Dazedly, I shook my head, then one key question sprang to mind. "How would you know that? How could you possibly know that? Even if it were true?" 

"Well..." Harry watched me for a moment as I struggled to let everything sink in. "You're Trylle. It's what we do." 

"Trylle? Is that like your last name or something?" I asked. 

"No." Harry smiled. "Trylle is the name of our 'tribe' if you will." He rubbed the side of his temple. "This is hard to explain. We are, um, trolls." 

"You're telling me that I'm a troll?" I raised one eyebrow, and finally decided that he must be insane. 

Nothing about me resembled a pink haired doll with a jewel in its stomach or a creepy little monster that lived under a bridge. Admittedly, I was kind of short, but Harry was at least six feet tall. 

"You're thinking of trolls the way they've been misrepresented, obviously," Harry hurried to explain. "That's why we prefer Trylle. You don't get any of that silly 'billy Goats Gruff' imagery. But now I have you staring at me like I have totally lost my mind." 

"You have lost your mind." I trembled in shock and fear, not knowing what to think. I should've thrown him out of my room, but then again, I never should've let him in. 

"Okay. Think about it, Louis." Harry moved on to trying to reason with me, as if his idea had real merit. "You've never really fit in anywhere. You have a quick temper. You're very intelligent and a picky eater. You hate shoes. Your hair, while lovely, is hard to control. You have dark grey eyes, dark brown hair." 

"What does the color of my eyes have to do with anything?" I retorted. "Or any of those things-" 

"Earth tones. Our eyes and hair are always earth tones," Harry answered. "And oftentimes our skin has almost a greenish hue to it." 

"I'm not green!" I looked at my skin anyway, just to be sure, but there was nothing green about it. 

"It's very faint, when people do have it," Harry said. "But no, you don't. Not really. Sometimes it gets more predominant after you've been living around another Trylle for a while." 

"I'm not a troll," I insisted fiercely. "That doesn't even make any sense. It doesn't... so I'm angry and different. Most teenagers feel that way. It doesn't mean anything." I combed through my hair, as if to prove it wasn't that wild. My fingers got caught in it, proving his point rather then mine, and I sighed. "That doesn't mean anything." 

"I'm not just guessing here, Louis. " Harry informed me with a wry smile. "I know who you are. I know you're Trylle. That's why I came looking for you." 

"You were looking for me?" My jaw dropped. "That's why you stare at me all the time in school. You're stalking me!"

"I'm not stalking." Harry raised a hand defensively. "I'm a tracker. It's my job. I find changelings and bring them back." 

Of all the major things that were wrong with this situation, the thing that bothered me most was when he said it was his job. There hadn't been any attraction between us. He had just been doing his job, and that meant following me. 

He was stalking me, and I was only upset about it because he was doing it because he had to, not because he wanted to. 

"I know this is a lot to take in." Harry admitted. "I'm sorry. We usually wait until you're older. But if you're already using persuasion, then I think you need to head back to the compound. You're developing early." 

"I'm what?" I just stared at him. 

"Developing. The psychokinesis." Harry said as if it should be obvious. "Trylle have varying degrees of ability. Yours are clearly advanced." 

"They have abilities?" I swallowed "do you have abilities?" 

Something new occurred to me, twisting my insides. "Can you read my mind?" 

"No, I can't read your mind." 

"Are you lying?" 

"I won't lie to you." Harry promised. 

If he hadn't been so attractive standing in front of me in my bedroom, it would've been easier to ignore him. And if I hadn't felt this ludicrous connection with him, I would've thrown him out right away. 

As it was, it was hard to look into his eyes and not believe him. But after everything he had been saying, I couldn't believe him. If I believed him, that meant my mother was right. That I was evil and a monster. I had spent my whole life trying to prove her wrong, trying to be good and do the right things, and I wouldn't let this be true. 

"I can't believe you." 

"Louis." Harry sounded exasperated. "You know I'm not lying." 

"I do." I nodded. "Not intentionally anyway. But after what I went through with my mother, I'm not ready to let another crazy person into my life. So you have to go." 

"Louis!" His expression was one of complete disbelief. 

"Did you really expect any other reaction from me?" I stood up, keeping my arms crossed firmly in front of me, and I tried to look as confident as I possibly could. "Did you think you could treat me like shit at a dance, then sneak into my room in the middle of the night and tell me that I'm a troll with magical powers, and id just be like, yeah, that sounds right?" 

"And what did you even hope to accomplish with this?" I asked him directly. "What were you trying to get me to do?" 

"You're supposed to come with me back to the compound." Harry said, defeated. 

"And you thought I would just follow you right out?" I smirked to hide the fact that I was really tempted to do that. Even if he was insane. 

"They usually do," Harry replied in a way that completely unnerved me. 

Really, that answer was what completely lost me. I might have been willing to follow his delusions because I liked him more than I should, but when he made it sound like there had been lots of other boys/girls willing to do the same thing before me, it really turned me off. Crazy, I could deal with. Slutty, not so much. 

"You need to go," I told him firmly. 

"You need to think about this. This is obviously different for you than it is for everyone else, and I understand that. So I'll give you time to think about it." He turned and opened the window. "But there is a place where you belong. There is a place you have family. So just think about it." 

"Definitely." I gave him a plastic smile. 

He started to lean out the window, and I walked closer to him so id be able to shut the window behind him. Then he stopped and turned to look at me. He felt dangerously close, his eyes full of something smoldering just below the surface.

When he looked at me like that, he took all the air from my lungs, and I wondered if this was how Patrick felt when I persuaded him. 

"I almost forgot," Harry said softly, his face so close to mine I could feel his breath on my cheeks. "You looked really beautiful tonight." He stayed that way a moment longer, completely captivating me, then he turned abruptly and climbed out the window. 

I stood there, barely remembering to breathe, as I watched him grab a branch of the tree next to my house and swing down to the ground. A cool breeze fluttered in, so I closed the window and pulled my curtains shut tightly. 

Feeling dazed, I staggered back to my bed and collapsed on it. I had never felt more bewildered in my entire life. 

 

I barley got any sleep. What little I had was filled with dreams of little green trolls coming to take me away. I lay in bed for a while after I woke up. Everything felt muddled and confusing. 

I couldn't let myself believe that anything Harry had said made sense, but I couldn't discount how badly I wanted it to be true. I had never felt like I belonged anywhere. Until recently, Matt had been the only person I ever felt any connection with. 

Lying in bed at six-thirty in the morning, I could hear the morning birds chirping loudly outside my window. Quietly, I got up and crept downstairs. I didn't want to wake Matt and Maggie this early. Matt got up early every school day to make sure I didn't oversleep and then drove me to school, so this was his only time to sleep in. 

For some reason, I felt desperate to find something to prove we were family. All my life I had been trying to prove the opposite, but as soon as Harry had mentioned that it might be a real possibility, I felt oddly protective. 

Matt and Maggie had sacrificed everything for me. I had never been that good to either of them, yet they still loved me unconditionally. Wasn't that evidence enough? 

I crouched on the floor next to one of the cardboard boxes in the living room. The word "memorabilia" was scrawled across it in Maggie's pretty cursive. 

Underneath Matts and Maggie's diplomas and lists of Matts graduation pictures, I found several photo albums. Based on the covers, I could tell which ones had been Maggie's purchase. Maggie picked albums covered in flowers and polka dots and happy things. 

My mother only had one, and it was adorned with a faded brown, nondescript cover. There was also a damaged pink baby book. Carefully, I pulled it out, along with my moms photo album. 

My baby book had been bright blue because all the ultrasounds said I was going to be a real boy. Not a cross dresser. Tucked in the back of the book there was even a cracked ultrasound photo where the doctor had circled what they had correctly assumed was my penis. Yet my mom didn't believe it. She still made me dress like a girl. 

Most families would have made some kind of joke about that, but not mine. My mother had just looked at me with disdain and said, "You were supposed to be a boy." 

Most mothers start out filling the beginning of a baby book, but then forget as time goes on. Not mine. She'd never written a thing in it. The handwriting was either my fathers or Maggie's. 

My footprints were in there, along with my measurements and a copy of my birth certificate. I touched it delicately, proving that my birth was real and tangible. I had been born into this family, whether my mother liked it or not. 

"What are you doing, kiddo?" Maggie asked softly from behind me, and I jumped a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Wrapped in her housecoat, Maggie yawned and ran a hand through her sleep-disheveled hair. 

"It's okay." I tried to cover up my baby book, feeling as if I had been caught doing something naughty. "What are you doing up?" 

"I could ask you the same thing," Maggie replied with a smile. She sat down on the floor next to me, leaning against the back of the couch. "I heard you get up." She nodded at the pile of photo albums on my lap. "You're feeling nostalgic?" 

"I don't know, really." 

"What are looking at?" Maggie leaned over so she could peer at the photo album. "Oh, that's an old one. You were just a baby then." 

I flipped open the book and it went chronologically, so the first few pages were of Matt when he was little. Maggie looked at it with me, making chuckling sounds at my dad. She gently touched his picture once and commented on how handsome her brother was. 

Even though everyone agreed my father had been a good guy, we rarely talked about him. It was our way of not talking about my mother and not talking about what had happened. Nothing before my sixth birthday mattered, and that just happened to include every memory of Dad. 

Most of the pictures in the album were of Matt, and there were many with my mother, my dad, and Matt looking ridiculously happy. All three of them had blond hair and blue eyes. They looked like something out of a Hallmark commercial. 

Toward the end of the book, everything changed. As soon as pictures of me started to appear, my mother began looking surly and sullen. In the very first picture, I was only a few days old. I wore an outfit with pink ponies all over it, and my mother glared at me. 

"You were such a cute baby!"Maggie laughed. "But I remember that. You wore girls clothes for the first few month because they were so sure you were going to be, um, different then you are now." 

"That explains a lot," I mumbled, and Maggie laughed. "Why didn't they just get me new clothes? They had the money for it." 

"Oh, I don't know." Maggie sighed, look faraway. "It was something your mother wanted." She shook her head.  
"She was weird about things." She added. 

"What was my name supposed to be if I were, a, uh, girl?" 

"Um..." Maggie snapped her fingers when she remembered. "Wendy! Wendy Rose Everly. But then you were a boy, so that ruined that." 

"How did they get Louis?" I wrinkled my nose. "Warren would make more sense." 

"Well..." Maggie looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "Your mother refused to name you, and your father... I guess he couldn't think of anything. So Matt named you." 

"Oh, yeah." I faintly remembered hearing that before. "But why Louis?" 

"He liked the name Louis." Maggie's shrugged. "He was a big Peter Pan fan, which is ironic because Peter Pan is the story of a boy who never grows up, and Matt was a boy who was always grown up. He also like Louis Walsh." I smirked at that. "Maybe that's why he's always been so protective over you. He named you. You were his." 

My eyes settled on a picture of me from when I was about two or three with Matt holding me in his arms. I lay on my stomach with my arms and legs outstretched, while he grinned like a fool. He used to run me around the house like that, pretending that I was flying, and call me "Louis Bird" and I would laugh. 

As I got older, it became more and more apparent that I looked nothing like my family. My grey eyes and frizzy hair contrasted completely with theirs. 

In every picture with me, my mother looked utterly exasperated, as if she had spent the half hour before the picture was taken fighting with me. But then again, she probably had. I had always been contrary to everything she was. 

"You were a strong-willed child," Maggie admitted, looking at a picture of me covered in chocolate cake at my fifth birthday. "You wanted things the way you wanted them. And when you were a baby, you were colicky. But you were always an adorable child, and you were bright and funny." Maggie gently punched a stray curl back from my face. "You were always worthy of love. You did nothing wrong, Louis. She was the one with the problem, not you." 

I nodded. "I know." 

But for the first time, I truly believed that this all might be entirely my fault. If Harry was telling the truth, as these pictures seemed to confirm, I wasn't their child. I wasn't even human. I was exactly what my mother had accused me of being. She was just more intuitive then everybody else. 

"What's wrong?" Maggie asked, looking concerned. "What's going on with you?" 

"Nothing," I lied and closed the photo album. 

"Did something happen last night?" Her eyes filled with love and worry, and it was hard to think of her as not being my family. "Did you even sleep?"

"Yeah. I just... Woke up, I guess," I answered vaguely. 

"What happened at the dance?" Maggie leaned back against the couch, resting her hand on her chin as he studied me. "Did something happen with a boy?" 

"Things just didn't turn out the way I thought they would," I said honestly. "In fact, they couldn't have turned out more different." 

"Was that Harry boy mean to you?" Maggie asked with a protective edge on to her voice. 

"No, no, nothing like that," I assured her. "He was great. But he's just a friend." 

"Oh." Understanding flashed in her eyes, and I realized shed probably gotten the wrong idea, but at least it kept her from asking more questions. "Being a teenager is hard, no matter what family you come from." 

"You're telling me." I muttered. 

I heard Matt getting up and moving around upstairs. Maggie shot me a nervous look, so I hurried to pack up the photo albums. He wouldn't be exactly mad at me for looking at them, but he definitely wouldn't be happy either. And first thing in the morning, I did not want to deal with a fight with my brother, on top of worrying about whether or not he was really even my brother. 

"You know, you can talk to me about this stuff whenever you want," Maggie whispered as I slipped the albums back in the cardboard box. "Well, at least whenever Matt isn't around." 

"I know." I smiled at her. 

"I suppose I should make you breakfast." Maggie stood up and stretched, then looked down at me. "How about plain oatmeal with fresh strawberries? Those are things you eat, right?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." I nodded, but something about her question pained me. 

There were so many things I wouldn't eat, and I was constantly hungry. It had always been a struggle just to feed me. When I was a baby, I wouldn't even drink breast milk. Which only added more fuel to the idea that I wasn't my mothers child. 

Maggie had turned to walk into the kitchen, but I called after her. "Hey, Mags. Thanks for everything. Like... Making me good and stuff." 

"Yeah?" Maggie looked surprised and smiled. "No problem." 

Matt came downstairs a minute later, deeply confused by the fact that both Maggie and I were up before him. We ate breakfast together for the first time in years, and Maggie was overly happy, thanks to my small compliment. I was subdued, but I managed to play it off as something resembling happiness. 

I didn't know if they were my real family or not. There were so many signs pointing to the contrary. But they had raised me and stood by me the way no one else had. Even my supposed mother had failed me, but not Matt or Maggie. They were unfailing in their love for me, and most of the time they had gotten next to nothing in return. 

Maybe that last part was proof that my mother was right. They only gave, and I only took.

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? Good or bad? Please leave comments and kudos! Also, Louis is MEANT to be called girl names in this book! (Not right now but in further chapters) he will wear girl clothes too. So if you have a problem with it, please leave. Thank you!


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